


We Don't Serve Her Kind Here

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dragon Age Prompt Fest, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Dragon Age Prompt Fest on LJ, title is the prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Serve Her Kind Here

**Author's Note:**

> It always bothered me that a Dwarf Warden's LI never stood up for him or her when the locals in Orzammar were mean to them upon their return as a Warden, so here it is in fic form.

"Get lost! You'll chase away my _real_ customers," the angry Dwarven merchant hissed at Natia, who dropped her hand back down by her side and stepped back from the stall.

Alistair, still perusing the Dwarven stock, looked up in time to see his normally unflappable friend torn between anger and shame, glaring at the merchant.

"Nat? What's going on? Who are you shouting at, Dwarf? It's only us here, now," Alistair asked.

"You've got surface gold, you're good for what you take, but we don't serve _her kind_ ," the merchant sneered at Natia, who bared her teeth in a fine imitation of Salroka the Mabari.

Alistair blinked, and a number of odd quirks about his friend suddenly made sense: her surprise at the Quartermaster dealing with her the same (cranky) way he dealt with everyone; the way she had dealt with the highwaymen at Lothering; and the way she had mourned Duncan's loss - Duncan had been her saviour, as much as Alistair's, if he had taken her out of this place.

Alistair squared his shoulders, and gave the Dwarven merchant his best imitation of Duncan's no-nonsense Look. 

"You there, Dwarf," he said loudly, "you say you don't serve her kind here, correct?"

"Yes," said the merchant, irritably.

"Yet you are an Orzammar dwarf? Not from the surface?"

"I am from Orzammar, yes, as was my father and his father before him," the Dwarf replied, clearly annoyed at Alistair questioning his Dwarfy lineage. 

"And you know of the threat Orzammar faces from the Darkspawn, yes?" Alistair continued, blithely ignoring Nat's cut-it-out gestures.

"Of course, every Dwarf in Orzammar knows and understands the danger of the Darkspawn and their taint."

"And you know and respect the Grey Wardens and their fight against the Darkspawn, yes?"

"Yes, of course! My great-grand-uncle was a Warden! Wardens are heroes!" The merchant had squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, showing off the gold threads braided into his beard.

"Well, you _clearly_ don't believe that, because you've just told the Warden Commander of all Ferelden that you don't serve her kind here. Off we go, Warden Commander Natia Brosca," Alistair turned on his heel, after making an obvious show of putting his heavy purse away, and walked away from the spluttering merchant, pushing a shocked, frozen Nat along ahead of him, through a small gathering of shocked, appalled Dwarves. Whether they were appalled that a Casteless was "Warden Commander" or that the merchant had insulted the "Warden Commander" wasn't clear.

"Can you still see him?" Alistair asked quietly, when they reached the door to Tapsters.

"Uh-huh," Nat murmured the affirmative.

"Is he still spluttering? I don't dare turn around to look or he'll see me," Alistair asked, winking at Nat.

"Yup. But, Alistair, I - I'm not a hero. I'm not even as senior as you - a-and you're a human. Once all this is over you'll be the Commander, I know it, why would you say otherwise?" Nat said to him.

"Three reasons. One: to shut him up. Two: to show Orzammar how fantastic you are. And, uh, two-and-a-half: terrible things happen when I'm in charge. I told you of this. The Wardens don't need a Commander who ends up randomly naked like in those dreams where you have to give a speech and you forget your speech and you've got no clothes on and everybody laughs at you, and- oof!" Alistair was cut off by Natia jumping up on him and half-throttling him with the strength of her hug.

"And three?" Nat asked.

"And three: I believe in you, and right now I'm the whole rest of the Order," Alistair smiled sheepishly. "But mostly to shut that guy up, he was _rude_."


End file.
